IMPERFECT ORB

by K. Lorel Reid

  Now Mike did something that came so naturally and worked so well the boy had to pause for a moment in wonder. His eyes blinked once and then his attention was clearly focused on the window. He was careful to keep his expression neutral. His mother took the bait and also turned her attention back to the flapping curtains.

  Mrs. Gregory’s face was set in a kind of perplexed wonder. Mike knew she was having second thoughts about her person-escapes-through-window theory. If so, it was another strike for David. As far as Mrs. Gregory was concerned, who else could the culprit be?

  Somehow, for some reason, Mike had regained mastery over his powers of persuasion. This made him think perhaps he hadn’t lost his ability after all. A one week slump was most likely all it was. Yes, he liked that idea just fine. After seven days of moping around the house, not really sure what to do with himself or about himself, he’d decided to go back into the Drop. Just like he had the week prior, Mike barely waited until his mother’s green car was out of sight before jumping up and heading to that enchanted spot. But now, after he’d made the trip, it seemed like things were falling into place once again. Even now his mother took a step back. He thought that even if the magic was gone the good luck of the Drop remained.

  “I was wondering,” his mother said, clearly annoyed at not receiving a straight answer. She glanced again in the direction of the window. “I was wondering if you’d run up to the bakery for me.”

  Mike smiled. Yes, he thought, things are back to normal, all right.

  By the time Mike got outside the sun was indeed beginning to set.

  “… and can you believe the audacity of some people?” James was saying. Mike had recently told him yet again to talk quietly, but his voice was, again, on an upward crescendo.

  “The nerve of her entering without your permission.”

  Mike didn’t respond but only became more sure of what he’d always suspected: He was the only person James liked. Or, as his other half had pointed out earlier in the week, he was the only person that James could tolerate. Mike just kept walking, hurrying to the bakery, eager to get the task over with so he could have a cupcake and call it a day.

  The bakery was a small, light pink building that stood directly beside the variety store. His mother had invited Helen and her daughter over for dessert. Helen Bresner visited frequently during the summer months. She always did around that time of year. Amongst other municipal committees, her and Mike’s mother were Chairs of the Ceedon’s Valley Historical Society and spent the summer months planning the historical events that would take place in the fall.

  Without incident Mike managed to leave the bakery with an assortment of miniature cakes and pastries packed in a small pink box the exact shade of the building’s exterior. He set out with the same brisk pace that had brought him to the store but before long felt the need to stop dead in his tracks. He was feeling uncertain about something but could not place exactly what that something was. After a moment he shrugged the feeling off then resumed walking, concentrating on getting the sweets home without crushing them. He was trying to strategize a way to sneak one of the trifles before handing the little pink box over to his mother. Unfortunately, he was also trying his hardest to control James, a voice that barely ceased to speak. Mike, although grateful James had been there when needed, was really beginning to feel like he couldn’t continue the relationship much longer. It had only been a week and already people were giving him second glances. And when Mike really thought about it, James was more annoying than not. Sure James had been there for Mike in his time of need, but now… now…. What was happening now? Were things really once again Normal — his Normal?

  Mike laughed. “Normal is what you make it. Unfortunately society does not consider a thirteen year old boy with a knack for just knowing things normal. But hay, it’s normal for me.” He had spoken the words aloud, to himself, and thought to speak some more but his attention turned elsewhere. He’d heard something…. Screams. A woman’s trill of screams. And they were coming from the direction of the Drop. Instinctively Mike turned in that direction; first walking, then moving faster, and finally clamping down on the little pink box of pastries in his hands — no doubt obliterating its contents — and running.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SIX TOURISTS MISSING:

  Search Continues

  By Vicki Wyles

  David was waiting. He had been doing this for some time. Only now he was becoming impatient. Whoever was going to type the paper and come up with some slides only had a hundred and sixty-eight hours and forty-nine minutes — approximately — and counting. Those were the facts a person knew when faced with the dilemma of having nothing to do but count the seconds. He had asked Samantha to take care of the title page and, with a little pushing, she’d agreed. But that had been nearly four days ago and he had yet to see anything materialize from her promise.

  It was now about six minutes past eight. The library would be closing at nine. David thought about taking a walk, but the odds were he’d end up at the ice cream parlour… again. He never thought he’d ever be able to say this, but the thought of having to devour another root beer float made his stomach churn. So, instead, he brought his gaze back to the front page of the Ceedon’s Valley Evening Herald. Before he had the opportunity to read anything more the old man who had been peering skeptically into the depths of the local newspaper, folded the paper and threw it down on the table in front of him. That was okay. David had a hunch he already knew what the article was all about. And it wasn’t about a bunch of kids jumping into a car and joyriding across the country for weeks. That simply was not a convincing explanation. Something strange was happening — again. And again, for reasons of tourist dollars, the big players — mayor, chief of police, chief of this and that — were trying to keep things as hush as possible; business as usual. But not the townies. They were busy peering through squinted eyes suspiciously at one another, trying to figure out who the psychopath could be. And naturally the media — consisting almost solely of the Ceedon’s Valley Evening Herald — was having the time of its life. Big things rarely happened in small towns so when they did everyone had something to say about it. So far all David had really heard was “he’s back.” It seemed that almost everyone was talking about the disappearances, far out of proportion to the population, including the campers, that seemed to plague Ceedon’s Valley every summer.

  David had arrived at the library early — five o’clock to be precise — not wanting to give Samantha the opportunity to say she had gotten there before him. Then there was his mother. He’d displayed his books, grabbed something to eat, then stated he was going to the library to study. It wasn’t only true, it was a bonus move. His mother had been watching him even more closely than usual ever since the day he’d arrived at home without his school books — the day Mike’s toy had broken.

  Since arriving at the library Michael had consumed one float, one ice cream sandwich and one ice cream cone. Now he was debating whether to get a milk shake or another float. The shakes never tasted quite right yet he thought another float would just be too much. Maybe he could go over to the shop and ask for a cup of water. Something was definitely needed to wash everything down.

  David lifted himself from the chair slowly and left the air conditioned library. As he stepped through the glass doors he realized that maybe no air conditioning was needed after all. Instantly the exposed skin of his face, arms and legs was hit by a cool, biting breeze. The character of that breeze seemed so unnatural it caused his steps to falter. It was as if instinctively his feet wanted to take him back inside. David looked about, noting that that subtle stench in the air had reappeared. Not only that, it was much stronger than David could remember it ever being, barely obscured now by the smell of woods and pine. He had paused for only a second, and when that second passed he began once again to move, determined to take his walk. But he had only completed a few steps before stopping to glance around in a nervous way. He felt as if
some sort of presence had come in with that grim breeze.

  The sun was beginning to set.

  David turned the corner and kept walking until he came to a small cluster of stores ringed around an open square. He entered the square, taking the stone steps two at a time, being sure to land lightly on his left foot. In the city square, at that time in the evening, only a few people milled about, mostly teenagers. They gathered in clusters doing whatever it was that kids normally do, including one group who, despite the signage, insisted on practising skateboard techniques off of the various slopes and structures that made up the town centre. There was no one there David knew. The majority of his friends had gone away for the summer, either for work or vacation. Although Ceedon’s Valley was great during the summer, nobody wanted to deal with a bunch of tourists. He didn’t mind the absence of his peers. It was peaceful and there was a lot of time to get things done — science projects, training for marathons; especially training for marathons.

  Absently he paused in his steps to rotate his left ankle in small circles, first to the left, then to the right. He had heard it was the best thing to do after a sprain. The sprain definitely was not as bad as he had originally thought. That was good. He could keep training. He just had to ease up on it for a little while. He had planned on going out for another run that night but this thing with Samantha had taken up way more time than he had intended. The task before him and Samantha was a relatively simple one. Perhaps a good hour of work, but at this rate the library would close and he’d still be waiting.

  David made his way across the square, his feet automatically taking him to the ice cream store. There he dawdled outside before pushing the door open. A light chiming announced his arrival overhead. The girl behind the counter looked up and smiled. She’d been there the last three times David had taken one of his ‘walks.’ The fella that he’d become accustomed to seeing beside here was gone.

  “Evening,” she said knowingly. Her brown hair was pulled back and on her head she wore a baseball-type cap the same ice blue as her apron. “What can I get you?” she wanted to know.

  “Well,” David spoke thoughtfully, “I’ve already exhausted my three favourite flavours — by different means, of course.”

  “Of course,” the girl agreed solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

  “So I guess the only thing left to do is move on to second favourites.” David stood back and eyed the buckets of ice cream beneath the clear plastic domes. (Who goes to an ice cream parlour and walks out with only water? he thought to himself absently.) In only a moment he decided he’d have Mint Chocolate Chip on a sugar cone. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier?

  After paying for the cone he started back towards the library. Pushing past the glass door of the ice cream parlour sounded the bells again. He payed them no mind, but rather focused on adjusting his vision to the dusky gloom that had settled outside. The sun was barely visible. The bright hues of orange and magenta which had splashed across the sky were now mellowing as the raging ball continued its descent. David began walking quickly. He had a vision of the library being locked up with his books still inside. On and off he had worked on the day’s homework. It was almost complete, but that wouldn’t count for anything if he had to walk into school the next day with nothing to show for his efforts.

  David ceased taking half-hearted licks of his ice cream. He really didn’t feel for it. His stomach was full in a rather sickly way. Before entering the library, with a feeling of relief, he threw what was left of the ice cream cone in a trash can. Then he left the oddly crisp breeze of early evening to enter the climate controlled space of the public library. Surprisingly, when David returned to his seat Samantha was there waiting. At first he wasn’t even sure it was her. She looked really made up and with a little more effort she could have passed for someone else.

  “Wait! Wait!” David said as he stepped within Samantha’s earshot. “Don’t tell me! I know I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He wrinkled his face into a ball of concentration before speaking again. “Aren’t you the girl from those make-up commercials? Oh wait, no, your the girl from that movie…. What’s it called again?”

  Before Samantha was given the chance to answer David gasped in shock. “Wait! I’ve got it!” Two fingers from both his hands came to rest on each of his temples. “Aren’t you…. Aren’t you that girl that used to be my lab partner. The one I’ve been waiting for since… what? … five o’clock?” David straightened up and in a tone full of authority, introduced himself. “Hi, David Ryan, how nice to finally be reacquainted with you.”

  Samantha had been bent over something but now she straightened up to face her science partner. To his outstretched hand she gave a barely interested look. To him, she offered a half smile.

  Quickly David broke into another role: “Darling,” he stated sounding sincerely flabbergasted, “you’ve come back to me.” He knelt before her, noting the fact that up close he could see the added make-up much more distinctly.

  Samantha just glared at him, her smile turning into a frank look that asked which nut house he had escaped from.

  David jumped up, becoming quite serious when he asked exactly where she had been.

  “Well,” Samantha said defensively, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “I’ve been waiting here since five o’clock; you just got here.”

  “And I suppose that’s my fault? Why were you here at five o’clock?” She sounded truly perplexed.

  “Ah, yeah, I think it is your fault.” David was getting mad; so was Samantha.

  “I told you I’d be here around seven, why you’d show up two hours early is beyond me. Besides, I’ve got good news.”

  When David didn’t fall back on his knees, begging her to tell him what that news might be she went on anyway, “I’ve got a job! At the make-up counter in the mall. Isn’t that great? That’s where I’ve been all afternoon. They wanted me to start right away.”

  David huffed out an incomprehensible reply. Samantha seemed satisfied with it. He supposed it was because she assumed that he had been mumbling some sort of apology or congratulations; or more likely that she was so self-absorbed she was congratulating herself.

  She shuffled through the papers in front of her, pulled one to the top of the pile, then looked up again to face him. David looked at what was in her hand, skeptically, but couldn’t help but like what he saw. On the sheet of white paper were four heads (of people he didn’t recognize), in the style of the presidents of Mount Rushmore, and below them, also having the appearance of being carved out of the stone of a mountain were two words: NUCLEAR ENERGY. David allowed himself a few moments to take the whole thing in. A smile came onto his face and Samantha asked the question, even though the answer was already clear.

  “You like it?”

  “Yah,” David admitted, “it’s really good.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I threw it together while I was waiting for you.”

  David searched her face but couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. That was, however, of little importance, and he told her this. “We have notes that need to be nicely arranged and sent off to be neatly typed. Time’s running out. I know if I’m typing this thing it will never be done on time.”

  Samantha didn’t disagree. She pulled out the chair beside her and motioned for David to sit down.

  “Too late now,” he pouted, sounding like Mike, who in turn often sounded like his mother. “The library will be closing any minute.” This, of course, was an exaggerated statement, but not by much. The clock on the wall read a little after eight thirty, the library closed at nine.

  “So now what do we do?” Samantha wanted to know.

  “Well one thing’s for sure, we can’t stay here.”

  “But we have to get it done.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I say we come back right after school tomorrow.”

  David denied her proposal. “We have
to send it out to be typed tomorrow. On such short notice we may even end up typing it ourselves.”

  After an unnecessarily lengthy debate the two decided on David’s house. As they left the library David was struck by how dark it was outside. It was still some time before nine p.m. and he couldn’t seem to remember it getting this dark so early during the summer months. He sensed that Samantha had the same uneasy feeling as he did. Something was wrong. David glanced skyward and sure enough there were heavy banks of clouds obscuring a full moon. But that did not explain the clammy, prickling of his skin — like he was picking up on something in the air that should not have been there.

  He was definitely right about something being wrong, though. His uneasy feeling had braced him for something but what happened next did more than startle him, it frightened him so terribly he thought for a moment that he would go into shock. The same events so terrified Samantha she was sent into hysterics.

  David had wanted to cut through the woods but Samantha had refused. She insisted that she would walk out with every conceivable summer insect clinging to her. David could have told her that with the breeze up the way it was that night, there probably weren’t too many insects out; but there was no time to argue. So they started out towards David’s house by way of the dirt path that skirted the forest. Loud music drifted towards them through the trees from one of the parties at the campsites.

  The path they travelled was frequently used by the locals but always seemed deserted. That’s the way it appeared that night, deserted — and by the time the two were walking along the Drop it was night. The sky was starless. Black clouds hung in heavy billows against an ink-blue sky, concealing the plentitude of stars. The only light along the dirt path was the greyish light of the moon. A full moon whose brightness and glory was veiled by cloud. Along the Drop David smelt that disturbing pungent odour stronger than ever. It was there, being tossed in and out of his senses by the blowing breeze. David was frustrated trying to place what that odour could be. It was like trying to grasp something just out of reach or trying to remember a word on the tip of one’s tongue or a dream quickly dissipating in the light of morning. What was that smell? Was there fetid water pooling somewhere in the woods? That was what David was thinking when he first caught sight of the creature.